


Listen and Learn

by peacemonger98



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: I promise, Other, Sexual Abuse, Trans Suga, do not read if you are triggered by sexually explicit abuse, it gets better at the end, not consensual touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:25:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacemonger98/pseuds/peacemonger98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I didn't want it.</p>
<p>I should have known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Listen and Learn

**Author's Note:**

> Again, don't read if you're triggered by sexual abuse and all that shit. Forgive me if its sloppy, I kind of had to get it out of my system and its 2am.   
> This is why I've been absent for months. Dealing with this bullshit. Isnt humanity just the best?

I didn't ask for it. I mean, technically I did, but you get what I mean.

I was 15 and he was 18. He was my first ever “real” boyfriend. I felt so awestruck to be with someone who had graduated high school and had cool friends.

Naivety was nice.

He started off slow. I would squeal and giggle if he even brushed a hand past my breasts. But, like I said, he started off slow.

The first time he put his hand on my chest was probably a month into our relationship. Saints Row 4 was idly playing on his TV screen and he grabbed me. He was gentle. But, despite my objection to his touching me, he didn't stop.

I should have known then.

We went from sitting on his dirty, old futon to laying down on it, spooning. He was the big spoon. He reached his arm over me to touch and feel. It didn't feel right.

I don’t remember when exactly he put his hand down my pants, but I know I didn't like it. He didn't ask my permission or even acknowledge my objection to his actions until I started crying. It wasn't my pleading or my pulling on his hand that made him stop, but my crying. We sat up and he promised we didn't have to do any more sexual stuff.

I thought he was being a stand up guy for giving up all his pleasures. I told him he didn't have to do that, that it was okay.

I feel it’s important to mention at this point that nobody had ever touched me, nor had I ever touched myself. The feeling of being turned on was completely new. But, I thought my being turned on involuntarily meant consent. My body is cool with it, therefore my mind should be, right?

The next time I came over his house, he started in again with touching my chest. When I started to feel turned on, I asked him to put his hand in my pants. Again, I thought being turned on meant everything was consensual. He asked if I was really okay with it. I responded yes.

So, he went to work. He seemed much more intent on pleasing himself than pleasing me. He felt everything, stuck his fingers inside of me. It hurt. And why wouldn't it, nothing had ever been in there. I hated it.

I hated the way it felt and I wanted him to stop. But, I asked for it. That meant I had to let him do whatever he wanted, right?

Right?

Eventually, he got tired or I had to leave. Only then would he stop. When he deemed it okay.

We went on like that for a few months. Sometimes I would initiate the contact, most times it was him. I hated it. Sometimes when he would do it, I’d reach down and try to force his hand out of my pants. Then, he would say something like, “I like it when they fight back.”

I should have known.

Every boundary I established, he broke.

Every rule I made to keep myself safe, he broke.

Every crystal of joy I had, he broke.

I developed depression.

When I wasn't with him, I felt awful. And I just couldn't figure out why.

He’d go long spans of time without texting me while saying he promised he would. Then, when I warned him I’d be gone for a few hours, he blamed me for putting strain on our relationship.

My family didn't know. They thought something was off about him, but they thought he may have just been weird. I blamed them for putting stress on our relationship.

I didn't give them reason to suspect. There were no bruises or physical signs of what I was going through. I didn't even know it was wrong. It was my first relationship and the words ‘consent’ and ‘rape’ were not in my vocabulary.

Not yet, anyway.

He started pressuring me for sex. I was adamant about that boundary. I wasn't going to have sex until marriage. That’s still my plan. But, he tried to convince me otherwise.

“Well ,if you know you'll be with someone, why wait? Isn't it just inevitable?” My 15-year-old brain thought these arguments were pretty valid. I considered it. Little did I know, that would've been statutory rape. 

Luckily, I was smart enough to keep his mind off of the topic. We never did it.

He pressured for me to go forward, though, and physically overpowered me to get his way. When I said to stop, he didn't listen.

He never listened.

Finally, I broke it off with him.

The relationship lasted 4 months and, looking back, were the worst 4 months of my life.

It took months for me to confess to my mother that I'd done dirty things and I didn't _want_ to and he _made_ me and please _please_ don't be mad at me…

She told me that what I was describing was abuse. Sexual abuse.

It took another 6 months to tell my brother.

And another 6 months to tell my dad. I told him only after I knew the scumbag had been kicked out of his house.

I went to the police 2 years after the relationship ended. I couldn't remember the timeline very well, but every specific event is burned into my memory. The courts can’t do much without a rock solid timeline or physical evidence, neither of which I have. And it’s not like he’s going to confess to abusing me.

They say speaking to the law about it makes the victim feel better. I guess I’m the outlier. He doesn't have “sexual abuse” written on his rap sheet; he has “alleged abuser on a sexual assault case” on his record. Boy, haven't I made a difference.

I now see a therapist.

She’s read to me the symptoms and signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Nearly every one of them applies to me.

She’s also read to me all the symptoms of gender dysphoria. Nearly every one of them applies to me.

My sexuality is yet to be determined, but I really don’t mind.

“And, yeah, that’s pretty much it.” Suga sniffed and rubbed the wetness from his eyes. He then looked expectantly at Daichi.

The latter had the heels of his palms dug into his eyes and was sniffing every so often. He looked up at his partner after a few long moments of silence.

“I’m…so, so sorry…” he breathed out in a bare whisper. Suga took his hands and smiled despite his glassy eyes and damp cheeks.

“Thank you.” The conviction in his words was strong.

“I promise…” Daichi squeezed Suga’s hands as tightly as he could, “I will keep you safe…for as long as I live…”

Suga wanted to assure him that he was okay on his own. That he’s now suspicious of any guy within a ten meter radius. That whenever, wherever he walks, he always laces his keys between his knuckles, just in case. But, he let his boyfriend have his moment.

Daichi eased up his grip and kissed Suga’s hands so lightly, it hurt. Both their hearts ached.

But, they loved each other. If Suga had a bad day, Daichi did what he could.

He listened. 

**Author's Note:**

> Always. Listen.


End file.
